Scully decided to drop the subject, knowing that if she pushed, he would continue to evade answering. She sighed.
"I don't know. It could be the aftereffects of Antarctica, though I'd need samples to prove anything and find a cure, which would be hard to acquire, considering."
"And what exactly happened in Antarctica?"
"Well, it certainly wasn't aliens, Mulder. We all know how crazy that sounds," She tried not to laugh.
"What's crazy is you denying what you saw with your own two eyes. I thought you were a scientist, and scientists believe in the cold hard truth." He looked smug, as they got out of the car and walked into the building.
"Believing in something doesn't make it real. You prove that everyday." Scully waited as he fumbled for his keys, as always trying to locate the correct one.
"How do I prove that, Scully?" Mulder said to her, then mumbled, "No, not that one, that's the women's bathroom at the Bureau…."
"Well, first there was the hundred-year-he old, liver eating, shape-shifting mutant." Scully indeed was hard pressed to find a case where Mulder wasn't right about some aspect of his bizarre theories. He found the right key, and pushed the door open for her with a flourish.
"Which we proved was true. He came at you through your air vent." She felt eyes at her back, and surreptitiously glanced behind her, startled to find that Mulder was staring at her ass. Scully quickly looked forward, and forced herself not to blush.
"Yes, well, then there was-" She began, trying to think of anything, other than the hunger in his gaze.
"Now Scully, we could also talk about other things. Nice things, like puppies and pretty little flowers, maybe?" She didn't hide her amused and, truth be told, flattered smile.
"I don't know about you, sometimes, Mulder."
"What, what'd I say?"
--
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Scully returned with a calm tone. Mulder, still obviously confused, followed Scully into the apartment flipping on the lamp near the door. Mulder glanced back at her, warily, as he entered the long-disused bedroom. Maybe disused wasn't the right word. It was used, just as a storage unit, rather than for its nominal function.
Without having to search, there was a system after all, based loosely off the Dewey Decimal system, with dead presidents thrown in, Mulder reached into the closet and pulled out, with a slight flourish because Scully wasn't looking, an old sage green sweater Scully had left at his place. The reason she gave for leaving was that, with him, she never knew when she would end up soaked and freezing after nearly being killed by a giant fluke-worm, needing something warm and dry.
The sweater had been used, once or twice, of course she'd been right, and there were a few red hairs adorning its shoulders, and a whiff of her perfume, which made him involuntarily close his eyes and inhale.
He tossed it through his door at her. "It's cold out, and I don't want Frohike to ogle your soft teenage graces." He half called to her, before pocketing a rolled up magazine and exiting.
Scully had the famous raised eyebrow gracing her face.
"I saw that, Mulder. What is that magazine? I'm sure that's the real reason we're here."
"It's nothing, Scully, just a magazine I promised Frohike." Mulder's face was the image of innocence.
"It's a porn magazine, isn't it?"
"He wanted to peruse a certain article of particular literary merit," Mulder assured her.
"There are no articles of any merit in those magazines, Mulder. Remember, I had older brothers."
Mulder couldn't really argue that point, so he tried another tactic.
"C'mon, Scully, have a heart. You know he won't ever see a naked woman in any other context." He wheedled. Scully smiled and relented with a sigh.
"Only if you promise to keep him from groping me," She cautioned.
"I think I can promise you that." Mulder's smile was warm, and his heart protective. Mulder didn't think he'd be responsible for anything he did to his friend, should he seriously attempt to molest her.
They exited the building, after Mulder went through the motions of locking the door.
"Not that it helps," Scully faintly heard him mumble, which amused her to no end. She allowed herself to roll her eyes- after his back was turned, of course. What she forgot was how well he knew her.
"I heard that, Scully. Don't think I didn't."
"I didn't say anything, Mulder."
"You were rolling your eyes. The distinct texture of the silence gave you away." Scully frowned, wondering how much of that was a bluff, and how much was him knowing her too well.
"Stop frowning," he said, without turning. "It'll give you wrinkles." Scully frowned more.
"You're full of crap. You can see my reflection in the elevator door," she said.
"Language, Scully! Wow, maybe the teenage appearance is getting to your head!" Mulder teased. "Are you reverting?" Scully laughed, but had Mulder turned around, he would have been able to tell she was worried. As it was, none of her concern showed in her voice as they stepped out of the elevator and walked to the front doors of the building.
"Come on, Mulder, we're all adults- nevermind, we've already been down this road."
"That we have," he said, opening her car door for her. "That we have." This time it was Scully who changed the subject, as he started the car, and pulled away from the curb, covertly glancing behind them to look for possible followers. She crossed her arms and spoke.
"Hey, weren't we supposed to make a 'List of People Out to Get Us'?" She queried, and glanced over as he began to dig in his pockets, barely managing to do this and stay in his lane.
"No problem," he said, in the midst of holding it up triumphantly and paying a little more attention to the road. "I've got mine." Mulder handed it to Scully, who unfolded the water-logged document, with something that seemed like coffee making it barely legible.
"Mulder, what did you do to this poor, pitiable piece of paper? I can hardly make out the first name! And, while we're at it, your handwriting is a mixture of chicken scratch and cuneiform. What could have possessed you to handwrite this?"
"Simple, sweet Scully- it is harder for people to track down one "pitiable" piece of paper than it is to hack into my computer. And, I happen to like my handwriting. Makes it harder to read," he added, never loosing the mocking tone.
"All this alliteration is amusing, actually," she said, "but let's get down to business. Now, this first name-" Mulder cut her off mid-sentence.
"Robert Chase. Doubtful it's him- no creativity or influence, not to mention funds." Scully looked at him sideways.
"No, he's in jail- don't you remember?" She glanced at Mulder, who was still acting like the hounds of hell were, well, hounding them.
"Got out last week. C'mon, Scully, keep up with your bad guys!" he chastised lightly, making a sharp turn.
"What about-" Scully began.
"Alaska."
"What? How do you know who I'm talking about?"
"I just do. She's in Alaska."
"You memorized the list, didn't you?"
"...Maybe. Hey, I can't help it. Not my fault."
"Ah, yes. This so-called photographic memory. Tell me, Mulder, does this work with everything?" Mulder resisted glancing at her, reminding himself that he should pay attention to the road. However much he didn't care about his own wellbeing, Scully's was more important than anything to him.
"Yes," he said, suddenly remembering that she had asked a question. He decided to cool off on the automotive acrobatics for awhile. Besides, he realized they were pulling up to the Lone Gunmen's headquarters. He parallel parked haphazardly and turned the car off, getting out along with Scully. They walked in tandem to the door.
